


Little things

by Somaybelikeno



Series: Reyben/Reylo short stories [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Intimacy, Light Bondage, Non-Sexual Kink, Praise Kink, dom!rey, sub!Ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6198208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somaybelikeno/pseuds/Somaybelikeno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belly down on the bed, nothing but feeble strings keep his limbs where she bound them. Nothing stops him from breaking the threads. That's not the point. The point is it is harder for Ben to keep himself in check than it is for him to be subdued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little things

**Author's Note:**

> First Star Wars fic yay! Honestly, at this point, it feels more like my fanfiction is inspired more by other people's fanfiction than the source material. There's just to much good writing on this site!
> 
> Comments and feedback are welcome!
> 
> Unbetaed.

It's the little things that break him. She shouldn't be surprised really, that she can predict the clenches of his hands with economic brushes of her own, teasing the skin of his hips just above the lining of his pants with just her fingertips. He aches with the deprivation of her palm.

 

“Shush now,” she whispers, tracing along the jut of his shoulder-blades now. “Keep still.”

 

Belly down on the bed, nothing but feeble strings keep his limbs where she bound them. Nothing stops him from breaking the threads. That's not the point. The point is it is harder for Ben to keep himself in check than it is for him to be subdued.

 

He turns his face into the mattress, curls his chest in on itself to gain a little more of her hand. “Rey,” he pleads.

 

“I know, I know.”

 

“Please...”

 

She shushes him again. “You're being so good.”

 

He groans heavily when she takes pity and drags her hand over his scalp from nape to crown, her fingers separating his hair in thick locks. The strings strain around his wrists, stressed as he pulls meekly against their hold. Rey overlooks the discrepancy. He's only squirming.

 

Fisting the dark tresses in her hand she turns his head so he's resting on his cheek again. His eyelids flutter as she leans in close and lets her breath brush against his neck. Little twitches in the muscles around his jaw betray his distress at the relative lack of proximity.

 

Rey presses her lips to the spot just below his earlobe. He  _ whimpers. _

 

In the end, it's the little things that break her as well. It's far too easy to drape herself across his back, to easy to fit herself against his spine, and push her nose into the space between his neck and shoulder and just breathe. The bothered rises and falls of his chest ebbs out, becomes even under her weight.

 

It's in their shared equilibrium, as she traces along his triceps, that he snaps one of the threads, jerking his arm free. She already broke the rule so she can't scold. Her mouth twists of its own volition, mirroring the content smile his profile morphs into, and she lets him curl her arm around his chest. He settles with her palm snug against his skin.


End file.
